


The Joy of Giving

by foliearyden



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Assumptions, Blow Jobs, Declarations Of Love, Dildos, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foliearyden/pseuds/foliearyden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone could find a secret underground Disney sexshop to purchase yet another dildo for their boyfriend’s already copious collection, it was Brendon Urie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Joy of Giving

“I bought you something.”

Ryan sighed and tossed his pen.  Of course Brendon had.

“You have the financial restraint of a toddler.”

Brendon ignored Ryan and took a seat on the couch beside him.  A few new holes showed through his favorite Johnny Depp shirt and he was sporting hollowed purple rings under his eyes.

“You still want it though, right?”  Brendon asked with his trademarked big, faux pout.

Again, Ryan sighed, his fingers itching to write.

“Yeah, of course I do, Bren.  It was sweet of you to think of me.”

Brendon grinned sheepishly, “I always do,” and tossed him a long rectangular package from his backpack.

Ryan balked as the package bounced across his thighs.

He had received presents like this from Brendon before, but there was simply no way -Ryan shook his head.  Hell, who was he kidding?  This was Brendon he was thinking about.  If anyone could find a secret underground Disney sexshop to purchase yet another dildo for their boyfriend’s already copious collection, it was Brendon Urie.

Ryan looked at the package on his lap with dismay.  It was probably glittery, with Peter Pan’s face on it (Ryan may or may not have let slip that he had an embarrassingly enormous crush on him while fucking baked as shit).

It was the most sweet and thoughtful and fucking weirdly perverse gift that he had yet to receive.

Amused and annoyed, Ryan began to tear at the tissue to reveal a relatively normal looking, dildo sized, Disney printed box.  He felt oddly let down, though it would probably would have gone against the family-friendly policy for young flaming homosexuals such as Brendon to walk around with bags printed ‘Disney, bringing the cinematic groans from the big screen to your boytoy at home, since 1986...”  or whenever they started their chain of underground sexshops.

“Hurry up!”  Brendon urged, his hands slipping down to Ryan’s thigh.

Ryan gulped.

Was receiving a child-like sextoy something he ought to be excited about?  Wasn’t there some sort of special place in hell for people like that?

Ryan then decided it didn’t matter; as unappealing as having one of his beloved chilhood character’s face shoved up his ass was, well, it wouldn’t be the character’s face that would be on his mind.  If Ryan was up Brendon’s ass and something was up Ryan’s ass, he wouldn’t complain.

Brendon let out  a noise of annoyance and impatiently flung off the lid of the box.

“Do you like it?”

Ryan stared into the box awkwardly.

It was... a very strange dildo.

The top half was clear and filled with a glittery water and a very sad looking Eeyore figurine. The bottom half was plain blue.  No fake balls molded into embarrassing shapes, like Mickey Mouse’s face.

Ryan removed it from the box, watching numbly as the little flecks of glitter fell into place around the tiny sculpted Eeyore.   

“It lights up, too!”  Brendon squealed, taking the Eeyore-dildo and pressing the tip of the plain blue half into his thigh.

The water around Eeyore glowed an ominous red.

It was so, so wrong.

Brendon put the dildo in his lap and took Ryan’s hand in his.

“I know you’ve been working really hard on the new lyrics, because you’ve been zoning out.  Like, last week you couldn’t focus on our dinner date because the words just came to you and you had to write them down.  

“So I asked the waitress to give you a pen and you wrote on napkins.  I just sat there, alternately admiring you writing and reminding you to eat.  You do that, you know, when you get zoned?  You forget to look after yourself.  You get kind of like Eeyore, all in your own world, seemingly strange and depressed.  Don’t worry, I know you’re not really sad and closed off.  I know this, because when you write, you completely light up.  

“People don’t really see that, though, because all of that passion and light in your heart takes up so much effort and force that you need to externally shut down to channel it.  It’s all you can do, just picking up that pen and getting the words out.  And most people don’t get it.  Like I know Jon thinks you’re rude when you zone, but he would never admit it.

“So, this is kind of a double gift.  It’s me saying I get it... and, it’s a reminder to you that I’m here for you when you become a space case, to make sure you do don’t forget to do essential things like eat pop tarts and breath.”

Ryan sniffled, folding his hands awkwardly in his lap, thinking that Brendon was like a massive ball of supportivity that never ran out of juice.  Ryan wanted to cuddle him until he passed out.

“So... are you going to try it out?”  Brendon asked tentatively, his brown eyes all soft and melting.

The dildo.  Ryan had forgotten all about the dildo in the midst of Brendon’s selflessness.

It would have made a lot more sense for Brendon to buy him a snow globe, considering the newfound sentimental value behind his gift, but Brendon was Brendon. And Ryan loved Brendon, so Ryan would symbolically shove the Eeyore-dildo up his ass as a weird metaphor of accepting Brendon’s concern over Ryan’s lack of self-care whilst writing.  And then Brendon would proceed to repeatedly shove said metaphor up Ryan’s ass until he zoned out, but this time for much less wholesome reasons.  For the rest of the week his ass would throb as reminder that Brendon cared about him.

As he moved to start undressing, Ryan decided that he must really love his ridiculous boyfriend.

“Uh, Ry?  What are you doing?”

“Trying out your present.”  Ryan mumbled, shoving down his jeans.

“What?  By simultaneously sucking my dick and writing about it?”

Ryan stopped undressing.

“What are you talking about, Brendon?”

“I mean, are you planning to blow me while writing about it in vivid detail?  Or do you just like writing naked now?  ...Is this a new thing?  Should I be worried?”

The epiphany hit Ryan like a freight train filled with DVDS of every idiotic thing he’d ever done.

“You... you didn’t buy me a dildo, did you?”

“What the fuck, Ry?  No!  I bought you a pen.  A light up pen.  So you see the little light when you zone out and remember that I won't fucking let you run yourself into the-Oh my god, you are such a fucking pervert!”

Yeah... Yeah, Ryan supposed he really was.

“I’ll blow you if you promise to never talk to anyone about this ever.”

“Fine, but you can’t use your hands.”

Ryan smiled and licked his lips, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

 


End file.
